Pretty Stupid
by K9Lasko
Summary: Their moves are slow, but some day they'll figure it out. Or not.


Title: Pretty Stupid  
Rating: FR15/T (rated for swearing)  
Genre: Angst, romantic friendship (UST), pre-NCIS/AU-ish  
Characters: DiNozzo/Gibbs, Kate Todd  
Summary: Their moves are slow, but some day they'll figure it out. Or not.

Author's Note: This is a sort of re-imagined pre-NCIS + some of Season One story. It meanders from the time Gibbs first met Tony in Baltimore - and then through some other things - and then to the time they both met Kate. (I adore Kate. I miss her like whoa.) I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think: good, bad, or indifferent.

* * *

_We walk along a wrong path,_  
_The one which will lead us to a wrong place._

**"Pretty Stupid"**

**by**

**K9Lasko**

* * *

Detective Anthony DiNozzo is young and very unassuming, dressed in a hoodie and khaki pants. He's got messy brown hair, careful hazel green eyes, and a gold band around his right ring finger. He holds out a bandaged hand and asks, "And you're Special Agent Gibbs?"

"So you get to work with NCIS." Gibbs' voice is so dry it just might crumble away to nothing. He doesn't move to shake hands.

"Guess so," DiNozzo says without any pride or prelude. He lets his hand drop.

"They send all their junior detectives to help with joint assignments with federal agencies?" Gibbs prods. He loves doing that to the local authorities. He loves seeing them bristle. Especially the younger ones. They usually haven't yet built up that thick skin. And they usually have too much pride, all of it useless and bloated.

"No," the detective answers with a smile. "They always send their fuck-ups to deal with you people."

Gibbs considers him for a moment. "Makes sense, I guess. The last guy I worked with over here was a real piece of work."

"Well, you know... only Baltimore's finest." There's something half-burnt and wry in DiNozzo's voice. "You wanna get going and see the scene, Agent Gibbs?"

"Definitely not here to look at you, Detective DiNozzo."

He laughs and says, "Please. Call me Tony." He's smiling again. It's something he must do a lot of, judging by the lines on his face.

* * *

DiNozzo is surprisingly easy to work with. He talks too much, and he's a bit too cocky and a whole lot too goofy, but he seems to know what he's doing. Plus, he knows the city. Gibbs has to admit that if DiNozzo wasn't tagging along, he'd be spending a lot of extra time consulting a map. He also realizes that at this point he could send the detective on his merry way. The BPD brass no longer seemed interested in the case and they also seemed to have forgotten that DiNozzo even existed, so it wouldn't have been hard for Gibbs to pluck the case from all of their grasps.

But DiNozzo has contributed his fair share. He's been more than useful, so Gibbs keeps him around, and DiNozzo dutifully sticks around. He's remarkably dependable.

The case is straightforward. A Naval officer has been laundering drug money via an actual laundromat. The crime was brilliant in its ironic simplicity, and soon, after several twists and turns, it's drawing to a close.

They're sitting in Gibbs' car, both not quite willing to say goodbye yet, even though that's nothing they would ever admit to. They know the goodbyes will happen sooner than later. Despite age and circumstance, they're oddly drawn to each other's camaraderie, like moths twirling around a light bulb.

They talk.

"What happened to your hand?" Gibbs gestures at the bandage.

"Punched someone," Tony says.

Somehow, Gibbs doesn't believe him.

"Something," Tony amends.

That, Gibbs can believe. "Bad day?"

"Bad life." Tony's smile is bright, but there's something tenuous and fragile lurking beneath the show of mirth.

Gibbs can't help but wonder how deep Tony's unhappiness runs. "So, why are you the department fuck-up?" he then asks, harkening back to an earlier conversation.

Tony slouches in the passenger seat. He's got thought written all over this face. DiNozzo is a man who thinks loudly. If one watches closely enough, the gears can be seen visibly turning. Finally, he says, "I may have said some things I shouldn't have said."

"Why does that not surprise me." It's a joke, but not really. DiNozzo is known for his smart mouth, and it's come in handy while dealing with some of the locals. A loose cannon, some might say. DiNozzo can be unapologetically critical at times, and that combined with a tongue that works faster than his brain and common-sense censor, well...

"They needed to be said," Tony shrugs.

"That also doesn't surprise me."

Tony asks, "You appreciate honesty, right?"

"And tact, DiNozzo. Can't forget tact."

Looking away, Tony shakes his head. "Can't shit where you eat, huh."

Gibbs says, "No. You don't appreciate being fed a bunch of bull shit. You call a spade a spade. Don't think that's a bad thing."

Tony's watching him now with more curiosity and life than he's displayed for the past week or so. It's like he's waiting for something,

"You're good," Gibbs allows himself to say.

Almost in relief, Tony smiles. "Really? Because I've been thinking of quitting this mess."_ I'm miserable,_ he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he invites Gibbs over for dinner.

* * *

DiNozzo lives with a woman named Wendy. They're sweethearts from way back when. Their one bedroom apartment in North Baltimore - on-street parking only - is small yet homey. Nothing fancy. Just down to Earth.

Wendy works as an elementary school teacher. She appears chronically tired, but she already has dinner going on the stove for the three of them. She and Tony communicate in quiet voices and gentle touches. It's an odd change from DiNozzo's usual vibrant display of life. Then again, Gibbs has only known this man for a few weeks. The guy is like an onion. Lots of layers, a bit spicy at times, and sassy enough to make one cry in frustration.

The bottle of nice pinot noir Tony breaks out helps lubricate the conversation. "To another case solved," he says.

"But no talking shop at dinner," Wendy reminds him with a critical eye.

Dinner is subdued but pleasant, and soon Wendy is begging her pardon. "Nice to meet you, Agent Gibbs." Then she asks Tony, "Wash the dishes, please?" She heads for the bedroom.

"Sure," Tony calls back at her. He says to Gibbs, "She likes to go to bed early. Meanwhile, I can spend a whole night wide awake."

"Nice girl," Gibbs says. "How long have you two been married?"

Tony touches the band on his finger. "Oh, not married yet. We're engaged. Been dating for years. We decided that I ought to wear a ring, too. You know, as a promise of sorts."

"She have a problem trusting you?"

Tony cocks his head. "I don't know why you'd ask a thing like that, Agent Gibbs."

"She just seems on edge."

"We're fine."

"But?" Gibbs knows there's something else. He sees the unfolded blanket and the pillow on the couch.

"But what?"

Gibbs watches Tony, who - finally - smiles cryptically.

"Ups and downs," Tony says.

They sit, drink, and talk shop until four in the morning

Gibbs offers him a new job.

Tony says he has to think about it.

* * *

Late Saturday morning at the Food Lion, and the place is packed. With Memorial Day looming on Monday, the cook-out shoppers are out en masse, piling their carts full of chips and cardboard cubes of soda pop and hot dogs and hamburgers and pre-made potato salad and huge sacks of charcoal. Tony drifts between the aisles. He's opted for a basket rather than a cart. He's only one person, and he hardly thinks his current sparse selection of cupboard staples necessitates an entire cart. Not to mention, while the others ram each other and blockade entire aisles, he can nimbly squeeze past any impediment.

Still, grocery shopping is a drag and a terrible way to spend a day off, and after four minutes staring at the selection of peanut butter, attempting to determine what was the best price per ounce while also considering store brand versus name brand versus crunchy and creamy and extra crunchy and natural as opposed to... unnatural? Fuck it. He grabs whatever is on sale. Store brand extra crunchy.

The bread aisle is even worse. Buns are a hot commodity today. There's a log jam of carts. There's also an old lady in a motorized scooter going forward and then backward - beep, beep, beep - and then forward again - all of it in vain. Tony tells himself he'll buy the same brand of bread he always gets, but the problem is, he never remembers what it was. Suddenly, everybody wants to be where he is. The old lady has freed herself and is steamrolling his way. He steps away, which takes him away from the wheat loaves and closer to the pita pockets and Hawaiian sweet rolls. A mother with three small children wedges her heaping cart between him and the shelf he's looking at. It must be heavy; she's grimacing and using her entire body to steer it. One of the kids runs into his leg. Again, he moves away, taking two blind steps backwards.

He runs into someone.

"Excuse me," he turns around, sheepish. "Sorry about that."

"Watch where you're going, will ya?" comes the sharp reply.

It takes Tony a moment or two to realize that he's looking at Gibbs. He startles and then breaks out a grin. "Hey! Boss!"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs replies, voice neutral. He's dressed for a day off. Worn jeans. A favorite t-shirt stained by a past paint project.

"What are you up to?" Tony asks, strangely enthused by the random encounter.

Gibbs offers a deadpan stare before answering, "Shopping."

"Oh," Tony laughs. "Guess that makes sense!"

"And you're standing right in front of what I need."

Still grinning idiotically, Tony moves to the side, nearly tripping over a wire display container of instant potato packets. It's unusually ungraceful for a usually graceful individual. His cheeks turn a bit red, but he's still smiling.

Gibbs gives him an odd look while reaching out and grabbing what he needs: a box of Suddenly Salad. As he sticks it in his cart, he can't help but notice how Tony is still standing there, staring at him. "You doing okay over there, Tony?" he asks.

"Oh yeah. Never better, Boss. Just picking up a few essentials. Peanut butter. Canned tuna-"

"I can see that."

A train of carts heads Tony's way. "Guess I'll see you around," he calls out a farewell as he moves along, grabbing hastily at a random loaf of bread before the current carries him away.

* * *

Gibbs watches Tony's brown-haired head disappear at the end of the aisle. He laughs at himself.

_DiNozzo_.

He doesn't want to say that he's made a mistake fishing the kid out of the shark infested waters of the Baltimore Police Department. No. If Tony had been a real mistake, he would have been fired and sent on his way weeks ago. Gibbs had taken a calculated risk on DiNozzo. True, the decision was partly based on a shred of sentimental value, but the bulk of the decision rested on hard facts.

Tony has the experience. He has the right attitude, the aptitude, the teflon personality. And perhaps the most important thing: the drive to go go go.

Problem is, Gibbs honestly thought that DiNozzo's goofiness would have worn off by now, especially after a two-month settling in period. But instead of wearing off, it seems to have gotten worse. DiNozzo is insufferable.

He's an excellent investigator in terms of raw talent; there's no doubt about that. He's sharp as a tack. He's not afraid to talk to people. Never afraid of confrontation. He's not afraid to run or jump or climb or do any number of physical things. Hell, he could go all day... when he wants to. And that's another problem, isn't it? Tony is obedient, but not stupid, and the fact that he is always questioning something - his orders, most commonly - really sticks in Gibbs' craw.

He finds himself often saying, "Just do it, DiNozzo." Over and over again. Gibbs knows they need more time to work it out. After all, he obviously didn't hire a robot, or even a yes-man. They aren't used to working together, and Tony hasn't been taught to give two shits - or even one - about chain-of-command. That could have explained his nomadic career thus far.

So that's why Gibbs has to laugh at himself. DiNozzo is a problem he's hoisted upon himself. Gibbs had seen something great in the kid, but of course he also came with a whole rack of not-so-great somethings. The goofiness is the biggest problem, and Gibbs doesn't even know why it bothers him so much. He's so damn goofy.

_He's loveable,_ Abby says. (But only after a full three weeks of anti-DiNozzo hysterics. Abby is picky.)

Being loveable doesn't solve crimes.

He can't think about DiNozzo now. He has shopping to finish, and he does enough thinking about DiNozzo Monday through Friday and on the occasional weekend. He needs a damn break. Consulting his list, he's on the move again, strategizing his remaining purchases. He ends up by the meats, whole racks of ribs laid out in front of him. As he's studying the selection, Gibbs realizes that someone is standing rather close to his four o'clock. So close he feels the other person's warmth, despite the nearby refrigerated display case.

* * *

"Hey," Tony says to the side of Gibbs' horrendous chop-job of a haircut.

Gibbs wheels around. "The hell, DiNozzo?"

"Sorry." He doesn't appear sorry at all. And before Gibbs can spew out one of those rules he's so fond of, Tony goes on, "We keep running into each other. I saw you in produce, too, but you didn't see me."

Gibbs frowns as if he's unnerved in some way by Tony. "Place isn't that big."

"Are you having a cook out?"

"Huh?" Gibbs wants nothing more than to be left alone.

"Ribs. Barbecue sauce. Suddenly Salad."

"Oh." Gibbs picks two racks of ribs and tucks them into his cart. "Memorial Day Weekend. I always invite some of the guys over."

"The guys," Tony repeats, brow quirked doubtfully.

"Old friends. From the Corps, mainly."

"Gotcha." Tony nods.

"You got plans for this weekend, DiNozzo?"

"Oh not really," Tony answers, truthfully. "I'll probably settle in for a Magnum marathon, or-"

* * *

God damnit. Why does he care about what DiNozzo's social prospects are this weekend? But he was looking at him with those damn eyes. Calculating and curious. It's like Tony is trying to bore into his brain. Gibbs doesn't want that to happen. He needs to maintain some distance. DiNozzo isn't tame enough to progress to the close friend level yet. And friendships with subordinates always complicate things. He doesn't really need to give DiNozzo any more license to question orders. It's best to nip this problem in the bud.

Tony isn't an idiot; he can differentiate all of the shades of gray, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the clarity of black and white. Good leadership. Gibbs swore that's what DiNozzo's meandering career needed. Good leadership aimed at encouraging the good traits and extinguishing the bad ones. If he pushes hard enough...

But before Gibbs can stop himself, he throws out an offer. "Well, if you're free, we're all meeting up at my place this afternoon."

Tony barely waits a second before making his intentions clear enough: "I'll be there!"

_Dear Lord give me strength._ Gibbs has finally met his match. He wants to take back to invitation, but he knows that would be rude and - judging from Tony's sudden happiness - a bit cruel.

* * *

DiNozzo doesn't really fit in with his tight group of Corps buddies, but he sure tries to. He's congenial, very congenial, and he meets each one of them with a grin and a firm handshake. He's the youngest of the bunch by years, but no one mentions it. He folds himself into their conversations, laughs when they laugh, occasionally interjects his own thoughts, asks questions. He walks around the house and the backyard as if he's lived there for years. He hovers near the grill, but that only serves to piss Gibbs off.

Tony would burn the ribs for sure. Gibbs has to chase him off, much to his friends' amusement.

"I like him," one of them says.

Gibbs chuckles and pats his friend on the back.

The day is hot, yet despite that, they all sit outside. Tony makes sure the beer stays cold in the big red cooler. Gibbs moves the sprinkler to a new section of the lawn.

After the sun dips below the trees and the neighbors' houses, after the group melts away into their own cars and back to their own lives and families, and after the lightning bugs come and go, they sit on lawn chairs in the dark, staring in silent stillness at the fire in the firepit that's died down to an orange glow.

But stillness and silence only lasts so long for Tony. He feels like he has to fill the space with something, or else risk losing something he can't quite define. "I like your friends."

Gibbs grunts and takes a gulp of beer that's long gone tepid. "They're a good group."

"Thanks for inviting me. I had fun."

Gibbs takes another gulp. The sooner he finishes this one, the sooner he can get up and put some distance between himself and DiNozzo. Maybe if he ignores the problem, it'll go away. Maybe Tony will just go away. He feels eyes on him, but he doesn't turn to meet them. Instead he says, "Take some food home with you."

"I'm not going home," Tony then says.

He feels his annoyance spike. Sure, DiNozzo could be presumptive, but inviting himself to stay was rude, even for him. "Tony, I'm-"

"I mean," Tony must have realized his mistake. "I mean, I've been living full time at the motel for the past few weeks."

That wakes Gibbs up a bit. He finally turns to look at Tony. "What happened?"

"Wendy and I broke it off." Tony's voice is more irritated than broken-hearted. "I said she could have the apartment, which is fine, seeing as commuting from Baltimore to DC is exhausting. She didn't want to move here, and I wasn't about to force her to."

Gibbs notices that Tony's still wearing the ring.

"She got weird," Tony goes on without needing any encouragement. "We got weird. She started looking at me as if she wasn't..." He thinks of an appropriate word, "..._sure_. Or something."

Gibbs can only nod. He sure as hell has no rational advice to give DiNozzo about women.

"She told me that we'd been together for so long that maybe there was something we were both missing. She said she wanted to play the field a bit, and then - she actually said this - if we were sure..." One of Tony's hands is clenching and unclenching. "Play the field! Who says that? So I said, hey-"

_"Hey, you go enjoy your time as a whore! Fine by me! You won't see me again!" Tony rants._

_"Whore? Excuse me? Pot? Meet kettle!" Wendy throws back at him with a good dose of venom._

_On impulse, Tony grabs a stainless steel pot full of instant mashed potatoes and beats the ever-loving shit out of the stove with it. Spuds fly everywhere. On the wall, on the floor, on him._

_Never having seen Tony in such a frightening state of rage, Wendy screams at him, "You're fucking crazy! Crazy! Psycho!"_

Gibbs finally empties his beer. He really wants DiNozzo to shut up right about now. This story was like Jerry Springer lite, and he could really do without it.

"Wendy. Wendy says shit like that. And well, I won't lie Boss, I didn't exactly react rationally. I admit I was acting a bit crazy."

"Ya think? I'm surprised she didn't call the cops."

"She should have," Tony says.

"You're lucky she didn't. You could kiss NCIS goodbye."

"I know. I'm okay though, Boss. I'm not unstable or anything."

Gibbs watches Tony's nervous mannerisms. "Not worried about that."

"Good. But there's something else."

Taking the bait, Gibbs asks, "What'd'ya do? Besides beating the stove with mashed potatoes."

"I keyed her car," Tony smiles. Its toothy and without a whole lot of genuine mirth. "I keyed the fuck out of her stupid little car."

"Jesus, DiNozzo. Really?"

"I know, I know. Let's just say her family hates me now. It's kind of open season on Tony DiNozzo with that whole clan."

"You're more vindictive than all of my exes combined." It's something to remember for the future. But then Gibbs has to mentally backtrack, because his thoughts have gone where they ought not to go.

Tony is curious. "How many _are_ there?"

"More than one."

They're still talking past midnight, and they crack open a few more beers. Gibbs honestly hasn't talked this much, this long, or this deeply since Shannon. It leaves him in a state of baffled wonder. Briefly, he wonders if Tony feels the same way, but he doubts it and he'll never ask.

At quarter past one, they head inside and Tony stands in front of his kitchen sink and washes a few dishes. He looks over his shoulder at Gibbs.

Gibbs doesn't know what he sees or what he thinks he should be seeing. "I'd like you to stay," he ends up saying against all logic and good advice.

"Okay. I probably shouldn't drive, anyway."

He should let it be, but Gibbs has to clarify what he means. "No, I meant until you find a new place."

Tony stills at the suggestion and turns off the tap. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

They stare at each other for a bit like scarecrows in an empty field.

* * *

It's a rainy day in July when Tony gets hit by the truck. Gibbs distinctly remembers telling him to stop. He remembers shouting at the top of his lungs. But predictably, DiNozzo gives him the metaphorical middle finger. Or maybe the wind has carried his voice away. He always considers giving Tony the benefit of the doubt, even when he really shouldn't.

The truck throws him several feet. Like a cat, Tony lands on his feet - impossibly, amazingly - but then he falls over hard when a tiny hatchback bumps him. Gibbs thinks Tony might be dead as he kneels at his side. But he's not; he's only stunned, heaving in wild breaths and shaking.

As rain pours and traffic backs up and Tony lies shocked and painful on the wet pavement, Gibbs sinks on his haunches and stares up at the slate gray sky in silent thanks.

It's the truck that finally teaches DiNozzo to "listen, damnit!"

Well, sort of.

* * *

Tony doesn't notice Gibbs watching from the doorway. He is on his feet, walking or at least attempting something that resembles walking. He's dragging an IV pole with him, one hand gripping it with white knuckles. His ass, half of it bruised a wicked purple and green-yellow, is hanging out of his paisley print hospital gown. His wrist is wrapped up. The guy is an absolute wreck.

"How's that working out for you?" Gibbs quietly asks from his observation point.

Tony startles noticeably before carefully looking his way. He tries to smile but it's more like a grimace. "Not very well, Boss."

Gibbs doesn't move to help him. "Thought you weren't supposed to use that leg."

"I really have to take a piss." Tony has managed to drag himself into the attached commode. He doesn't bother shutting the door, simply props himself up, lets loose a stream of impatient urine, and groans in relief. By the time Tony makes his way back to the bed, Gibbs has taken a seat on a nearby chair. Tony feels his gaze, feels it scrutinize his every move, every decision. He only manages to get half of himself on the bed before he has to pause and take in several measured breaths. He shuts his eyes.

"What do they have you on?" Gibbs asks.

Tony doesn't answer.

Gibbs notices the tremors traveling up and down his limbs. Tony doesn't seem to feel compelled to move from his awkward position. "You need some help there, Tony?"

Again, Tony doesn't answer.

So Gibbs gets up and, with a few grunts and a lot of hisses and gasps from Tony, manages to get him all the way onto the bed. Gibbs steps back, satisfied, and then notices that Tony is watching him. "Thanks," he says.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Gibbs shifts away from his attention and moves back to the chair. Tony's eyes track his movements, slowly. "Yeah, no thanks to you," Gibbs grunts. He came here to rip his agent a new one. He has to remember that. He asks a soft question, "How long will you be out?"

"I don't know," Tony answers honestly. "That truck sure fucked me up good, Boss."

Gibbs turned his eyes to the IV drip, slow but steady. He frowns. "Could have killed you."

"I know that."

"Do you?" Gibbs hears his tone hardening without even intending it to. "You got some death wish, DiNozzo? Because I really need to know. Or are you really that stupid?"

_Or driven, or stubborn, or obsessive._ All of it sounds familiar, and all of it also sounds potentially deadly.

Tony counters, defensive, "We got him, though, right?"

"No, you bonehead," Gibbs growls. "Last I saw he was running - tail between his legs and hell-bent for Friday - towards the interchange. Probably couldn't believe his luck when he saw you get mowed down by that truck."

Tony is visibly upset by this revelation. "Why didn't you keep going?" he accuses.

"Oh I'm sorry, DiNozzo." Gibbs' tone isn't often sarcastic, but this situation clearly calls for a healthy dose of it. "Excuse me for pausing a moment to make sure you weren't dead - or worse."

Tony argues, "I thought I could get him, Boss! Thought if I ran hard enough, I could. I tried!"

"If you're gonna chase, you're gonna have to start using your goddamn head. Six year olds know enough to look both ways. Christ, I shouldn't have to teach you this, and it shouldn't take a four ton truck to get through to you."

"You should have kept going," Tony repeats.

"Damn it, Tony!" Gibbs shouts, loud enough for people in the hallway to hear. "I'm not gonna take suggestions from you. Not after this."

Tony turns his face away. He's disgusted - with Gibbs, with himself, with the present situation, everything. His body is a throbbing mess of hurt. The pain makes him sweat and shake, and he knows that Gibbs is still watching him. Judging him.

"You look uncomfortable."

"Yeah, I got run over by a truck," Tony snaps. "I feel fucking fantastic."

Gibbs gets up and leaves, and even though Tony knows he deserves to lie here alone and suffer the consequences of his own foolishness, judging by his moody outbursts, he feels an ache in his chest that is entirely unrelated to the accident. He shuts his eyes and groans.

"I hear the pain is bad," a nurse says from somewhere near his head.

Tony opens his eyes to answer her, but it isn't needed. The agony is fairly apparent.

In time, his head floats far enough away from his body that he can't feel a thing.

* * *

A few weeks later and back at work, Gibbs laughs when Tony gets sweaty over the thought of crossing a busy road. He's laughing at him outright. It's retribution for his hellish behavior while in the hospital, no doubt. But the fear is real, and Tony is humiliated by it.

Without a word, Gibbs takes him by the elbow and leads him across.

Tony doesn't thank him, and Gibbs doesn't expect him to.

The fear comes only once.

Tony ends up laughing at himself.

Gradually, things slide back to normal.

* * *

At the two year mark, they meet Kate Todd. She's Secret Service - or was, until they got her fired. She's sort of uptight, a real by-the-book stickler for the rules.

"She's hot," Tony says, but at Gibbs' look, he amends, "I mean, in a prudish school marm sorta way."

Gibbs shakes his head. Everybody is "hot" in some way or another to DiNozzo, and he sure as hell never makes an effort to censor himself. Gibbs has already gone through the "look, if HR contacts me with another sexual harassment complaint, I'll send you back to Baltimore" talk. Several times, actually.

Tony sits in the passenger seat of the agency-issued vehicle. He's eating a bologna sandwich on two perfectly square slices of Wonderbread and looking out the window. Probably thinking about Kate Todd naked or something equally inappropriate. Gibbs would like him to think about something useful, like work, but they've been going for a week straight, so he figures he'll cut DiNozzo some slack this time. "How would you like to work with her?"

He stops chewing and swivels his head away from the window. "You mean, with Kate?" Tony asks with his mouth full. He has some mayonnaise stuck to his lower lip. "You'd hire her? Really?" He's incredulous.

"I've already offered her the job," Gibbs replies. His voice is serious, but inwardly, he's smirking.

Tony licks the mayonnaise from his lip and swallows. "Really."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Oh, I don't know... You think she's really cut out for this job?"

"Why not? Because she's a woman?" Gibbs is having fun with Tony.

Tony shakes his head; it's a quick recovery. "No, because she got herself fired."

"For helping us."

"I'm not sexist, Boss," Tony challenges.

"Never said you were," Gibbs counters, although now he's starting to smile. He definitely has DiNozzo's number.

"Besides, Blackadder was a woman."

"Oh? You want her back with us?" Gibbs asks.

Tony huffs in frustration. He figures he should shut up, because he's already dug himself a hole so deep, he'd probably need help out of it. Vivian Blackadder was perhaps the most stubborn cock-block Tony had ever met, which was why she worked out okay with them, even if it was for a short time. It couldn't be easy for a woman to work with two chauvinistic Neanderthals (in Vivian's words.) Tony has to give her that.

But Kate? She seems so... Like a woman. He groans inwardly.

"I'm led to believe that she's more than she appears," Gibbs says.

Tony bites. "How so?"

"She's a profiler. We can definitely make use of that."

"Well, it sounds like your mind is made, Boss. Don't know why you're asking for my input."

Gibbs stays quiet for a bit, and Tony thinks the conversation is over and done with. He eats the rest of his sandwich with a lot of noisy chewing. He knews that bugs the hell out of Gibbs. Then he licks his fingers and wipes the spit on his jeans. He knows that also bugs the hell out of Gibbs.

"Your input matters, DiNozzo," he snaps.

Tony almost chokes. "About a case, maybe. Maybe. But about the new probie of the month? No."

"We all have to work together," Gibbs goes on.

"Sure," Tony snorts.

"You already have a problem with Kate." It's not a question.

"If that's what you think, that's what you think."

Tony's in a pissy mood for the rest of the day, especially after Gibbs leaves with that redhead who's been hanging around him lately.

* * *

"Oh my God," Kate says with a gasp of shock.

She's been on the team for a few months now. She and Tony have embarked on an adversarial sort of relationship that revolves around nasty teasing (mostly from Kate) and sexual innuendo (mostly from Tony.)

There's a lot of: "God, you're dumb, DiNozzo," and "You're such a prude, Kate," and from both of them, amazingly enough, "Hey, come on, I didn't mean it like that."

But for the most part, they play nicely. Kate is the sister Tony never thought he'd have, and Tony is the brother Kate definitely doesn't need but adores anyway.

"Oh my God," she says again.

They're sitting at their desks. Gibbs has already gone home for the night. Again with that redhead, although this one looks different from the last one. Tony can't keep them straight. The man must be maintaining a harem of them.

Tony stares across the gap at Kate. "What?"

"You," she says. "Your face."

"My face, what? Do I have something on my face?"

Kate laughs. "No."

"Then what?"

"You and Gibbs." Again, she laughs. "Your face when he leaves with what's-her-face. It's so funny."

Tony blinks. He wants to scream at her, _No! It's not funny at all!_ But he doesn't. Since the mashed potato rage session a while back with Wendy, he's been trying to temper that small sliver of inner-crazy.

"Oh Tony," Kate says apologetically. "I'm not laughing at you. I think it's sweet."

His hand twitches. "Sweet," he deadpans. Soon, Tony is grabbing his backpack and heading for the elevator.

Kate waves goodbye and winks. "Goodbye sweet Tony."

* * *

He doesn't see any unfamiliar cars in Gibbs' driveway.

The door's unlocked, so Tony lets himself in.

"That you, Sandy?" Gibbs voice rises from the basement stairway.

Tony frowns. He doesn't answer as he descends the stairs. He has to hurry, or else this sudden bravery will desert him.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs seems unusually surprised. He's half crouched by the ridiculous boat he's working on. How he'll ever get that thing out of here is beyond everybody's grasp. He stands and braces himself against one of the wooden ribs, because it doesn't look like Tony is slowing down his approach. He finds the time to ask, "What's going on?"

Tony steps right up to Gibbs' chest. "I think we're both missing something big here, Gibbs."

Gibbs could easily push him away, but he doesn't. He studies Tony's eyes. They're dark green in the basement light, like a pond after a heavy rain. He's so close, breath hot against his face. Gibbs says, "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Tony agrees, voice hushed. "But..."

"We can't do this, Tony. I never should have offered you the job."

"I never should have accepted. Pretty stupid, aren't we?"

They don't kiss, and at this point, they probably never will.


End file.
